Breaking the Gladiator

by Nicola Rose

  Play with him. Gain favour back from the people…

  Before he can compose himself I lunge, and deftly swipe across his abdomen, holding back enough that it will leave a nasty gash, but not enough to kill him. Not yet.

  He roars in frustration and we clash together. Swords against shields, striking and blocking, a perfect dance of destruction. Better. Domina will approve. I can almost hear her cheers.

  What if Felix was suspicious when he returned last night? What if I hadn’t retreated quickly enough from their room, what if one of the guards had spoken out? He might have hurt her—

  His sword swipes so close to my face that I hear the whoosh as it arcs through the air. My foot catches on something in the sand… he’s on me again and he rams into my shoulder, the force slamming me to the ground.

  I’m winded, looking up as he lifts his sword to plunge into my chest. This is it. All my years in this arena and I’m going to die at the hands of a weaker man. All I can hear are her cries. I pray they’re only in my head and not out loud for all to notice. Will she mourn me?

  Time has frozen. His sword is seconds from destroying me. Maybe I should allow it. Why do I even carry on with this existence?

  Then I hear her voice. The gentle one that she uses only for me, only when I earn it.

  As his blade begins its descent I lift a foot to his groin and catch him off guard. Within a moment I regain my feet and tackle him into a headlock. It’s risky getting so close, but I grip with all my might until he has to drop his sword in an attempt to remove my strangling hold from his throat.

  I glance up for approval from Felix. But I don’t see him, I just see Marcus reaching across and twirling a lock of her flame red hair around his finger. Her bastard husband doesn’t even notice, or care.

  But I do. The sweep of rage through my core is so violent that I kick him away and splatter the Gaul’s head, dragging my blade through his skull.

  The crowd go silent for a heartbeat.

  I didn’t wait for Felix’s nod of approval to deliver the killing blow. I don’t care. My humiliation from this terrible fight is so deep; I would take any punishment rather than wait another second to end the Gaul.

  He nearly beat me.

  Fuck the Gods!

  This woman will be the death of me. Soon, I will die on these sands, and it won’t be with honour, it will be with shame.

  7

  Livia

  “What in Jupiter’s fucking name was that?” Felix fumes, flinging the door mercilessly on its hinges as we enter the villa, Titus following behind. Bodyguard, and all-round overconfident bastard.

  He doesn’t want me to try and answer his question. I’m not qualified to have an opinion on these matters. He just wants to shout and vent, and when he’s finished yelling at me he’ll do the same at Vitus, our lanista, responsible for training Cassian. For training all eight of our gladiators.

  Felix spins on his heels to face me, purple with rage.

  “He did win, though,” I offer.

  “Barely! He was like a fucking newly-birthed lamb out there. All over the place. I’ve never known him to be so distracted in the arena. I will not tolerate this underperformance.”

  I’m grateful at the tentative knock on the door, and by the sight of Vitus as he enters meekly. Good. Please, Gods, let him take the brunt of the punishment.

  I will deal with Cassian’s punishment myself. The thought brings a tingling ache between my legs. Yearning. Need.

  I clear my throat.

  “And to think just earlier today I was talking of showering him with women and luxuries!” Felix bellows in Vitus’s face.

  Respect for Vitus, he doesn’t shy away. But then he wouldn’t. None of the gladiators would. Yes, they will nod and bow and show respect. But they won’t show weakness. Vitus was a fine fighter in the arena in his time. His victories earned him the coin and respect to buy his freedom and become a trainer.

  “With all due respect, Dominus, I feel you must still reward him for the victory,” Vitus speaks softly. Soothing a temper-prone child. “A win is a win, and if you back down on promised rewards now then it will dampen morale of the whole ludus.”

  Titus flexes his fingers, trying to intimidate the lanista, but steps back when Felix nods in agreement. “Fine. He will have his woman and his feast, but first he will be punished. Let him experience both and choose for himself which post-games activities he would prefer to receive from here on.”

  “A sound strategy,” Vitus bobs his head, as if ‘Felix the Genius’ had thought of it himself.

  Felix eyes him sceptically. “Reduce his general leisure time and increase his training. I expect results at the next games, Vitus, or your rank will be removed. And ensure that his punishment is severe.”

  “Of course, Dominus.”

  A sick thrill runs up my spine in anticipation. Today could have got him killed. That’s my fault. I’ve shown him too much affection and he lost his focus. I won’t make that mistake again.

  8

  Livia

  I’m standing in the middle of an arena, covered in the blood of all those who have hurt me over the years. I lift my arms in victory and spot Cassian stalking towards me. I run to him—

  But then I’m back home. At the place I grew up. Images of Cassian are ripped from me and leave an empty, gaping hole—

  I’m behind the old villa, where my father keeps the wild dogs. They pace restlessly, back and forth, up and down in their small cage. I inch closer to the bars, daring myself to get near to them. They’re the size of wolves. The alpha prowls closest to the bars, sizing me up.

  He’s the biggest, but even he has bones protruding from his skin. Not enough food. Never enough to make them happy. That way, when they are released in the arena, they will turn on whatever is put before them. Sometimes, they even turn on each other within this cage. They’ll pick off one of the smaller ones and feast on it.

  Right now they just look sad. Whimpering. Hungry. Pacing.

  They fascinate me. I come and sit here every day to watch them. Mesmerised by their raw power. Marvelling at how they can turn from feral wolf one minute, to whimpering hounds the next.

  The alpha always watches me with his calculating eyes. He’s intelligent. Today, something feels different when he stops to observe me. His eyes almost seem human. I’m sure he’s trying to tell me something. Like he trusts me. My friend. Perhaps we have bonded from all the time watching each other.

  It doesn’t feel right. These creatures should not be caged like this. He’s beautiful. He should be free.

  I reach a finger to his nose and let him sniff. He doesn’t growl. He doesn’t shy away. He just holds his ground and keeps staring at me. I want to hold him, soothe him.

  Without thinking, I release the door on the cage and set them loose. Most of them flee in a frenzied rush, but the alpha – he runs directly through the open door of our villa and the screaming begins.

  First my mother, then, briefly, my baby sister.

  Then it’s just my mother. Screaming and screaming and screaming.

  9

  Livia

  I wake from the dream drenched in sweat. But it’s not just a dream. It’s a memory.

  So many nights it comes back to me. A clear recounting of the events that happened when I was just twelve years old.

  Grabbing a drink of water, I slump back against the soaked bed sheets, and trace a finger over a scar on my arm. One of many that decorate my body. The punishments I received from not only my father, but also my mother, were brutal. As if I was no more than a slave myself. Whipped and beaten and degraded.

  I can still hear my father’s voice, haunting me daily.

  They are beasts, Livia. Break them down. Tear them apart. Then build them up, and you will own them. But never forget what they’re capable of.

  He wasn’t just talking about the dogs. Slaves, gladiators, hounds… it was all the same.

  My parents never recovered from the grief of that be
ast mauling my baby sister to death. None of us did. My father found the most comfort in alcohol. Eventually he lost everything, every last coin. Thankfully I was already married to Felix by then. But it took a lot of work on my part to stop Felix from kicking me out once he realised my family had nothing. Once he knew that I was penniless and numb.

  I had never told him what happened with my sister, but my father made certain to, in his rage at losing everything. His final push to try and hurt me. I think Felix actually smiled after hearing that story. It clicked into place and he realised just how damaged I was. Just how much he would be able to use me and abuse me, and that I would not retaliate.

  Because I’m worthless. Nothing.

  The screams are still ringing in my ears.

  I deserve nothing.

  I shake away the memories and force myself from the bed.

  Mercifully, Felix left our home again last night for another ‘business trip’. He knows when I have the dream, when I wake screaming, and he often smiles cruelly, ready to break me apart further. But today he is gone and I sigh in relief. I don’t know what he’s really doing, and I don’t care. He’s away, and that is a blessing.

  And what do I do with this free time? Do I socialise with friends? Take a walk into the city? Go shopping?

  No. I spend an hour listening to the crack of a whip against Cassian’s back. The noise drifts all the way from the barracks, across the training ground, and through to my room. Never a groan or a cry, though. He takes the beating in silence.

  I strain to hear more. To hear just one groan of pain.

  The pressure building between my thighs is unbearable. I pace anxiously up and down, changing my mind over and over about what I should do.

  I should go.

  No. I should stay.

  But I must go. I have to go.

  I can’t go. It’s getting too risky.

  And then my personal maid arrives to wash my hair, and before I know it the words have already slipped out, “I believe Vitus is nearly finished with Cassian. He’ll be tired and agitated. You should go to him, he could probably use your touch right now…”

  Alba startles as if I’ve struck her down. No doubt terrified that I am indeed about to do so, for knowing of the secret relationship she has with the lanista. “Your secret is safe, Alba. Go to him. Consider it a reward for your loyal service.”

  Confusion pulls at her delicate features.

  So maybe niceness to slaves isn’t generally my approach. They must be kept in line. But Cassian has told me repeatedly that they won’t keep our secrets unless I start offering them something in return. How hard can it be?

  “Go,” I say, a little too harshly.

  I watch her scurry away like a startled mouse and force myself to count to one hundred before I walk as casually as I can, through the barracks, directly towards the punishment room.

  10

  Livia

  Every gladiator immediately stops what they’re doing and stands to attention as I pass through, the fabric of my floor length dress sweeping along the dusty floor with a gentle hiss. The smell of sweat and dirt has my heart racing. That intoxicating aroma of masculinity. This is where the beasts dwell, and my heart skitters in approval.

  I reach my destination and all is quiet from within. The guard on duty doesn’t know where to look as I come to halt. I didn’t see Vitus on my way through, and I could guarantee that if he was anywhere in the vicinity when the lady of the house entered his barracks, then he’d have been stood to attention. Which meant Alba hadn’t failed me. I suppressed a smile at the thought of their fumbling fucking somewhere on the grounds, hidden and dangerous.

  “I need to speak with Cassian about the next games. There are details my husband forgot to pass on. Ensure we are not disturbed,” I motion for the guard to open the door with a dismissive wave.

  “But, Domina, should the lanista not be present?”

  I give him a look that could melt lead. “You question the orders of your Dominus? I am to deliver this information right now, and since the lanista appears to be absent, perhaps I will have to report his own failings—”

  “No… no, it’s just… Cassian is in no fit state. I will have him cleaned and dressed and brought to your room. This isn’t the place for a lady…”

  “I don’t have all evening to be dealing with my husband’s tedious work! I will do this right now and then get out of this festering shit-pit.”

  “As you wish, Domina.” He reluctantly opens the door and my legs turn to jelly at the sight of Cassian – naked, chained with his hands strapped high above his head, bloodied and beaten.

  11

  Cassian

  A woman’s bare feet stop before me, just visible beneath the fabric of her flowing dress. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just stands there – tauntingly close.

  I don’t have the energy to lift my head and look at her. But I wouldn’t do it, even if I did. I’m not that stupid. There’s only one reason she’s here, and it’s not to comfort me.

  Muscles tear in my shoulders from the way I’m dangling in chains. I could have been here for minutes, or hours… when you’re in so much pain time loses meaning.

  But she’s about to bring a whole other type of agony.

  Beautiful and deadly.

  She will break me apart from the inside out.

  I will hate her.

  But I will love her.

  And I will pray to the Gods that I can just die to end this sweet torture.

  12

  Livia

  “Be grateful Felix hasn’t ordered harsher punishments for you, Cassian. You could be facing far worse right now if your lanista hadn’t spoken for you.” My voice is rasping. Breathy. Excitement tickles my skin.

  “Gratitude, Domina,” he says, deep and low.

  His head hangs forward, eyes always to my feet. Tattooed muscles bulge from his enormous biceps, his broad chest pulled tight with the strain from being bound in such a way, crushing air from his lungs. Hands tied high up overhead, his toes barely able to touch the ground.

  His body is a patchwork of brutality. I move slowly around him, assessing the damage. The face that is bruised and cut, the black and blue ribs. Round to the welts that criss-cross his back. The whip lays discarded in a corner.

  Some of the injuries were obtained in the arena, but many of them are at the lanista’s own hands. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d even instructed the other gladiators to tear some strips from their champion’s flesh.

  I touch my fingertips to the nape of his neck and glide them slowly down his spine. He hisses on a deep intake of breath.

  Leaning in close, I nuzzle my lips to his ear lobe. “You’re a fool for allowing yourself to become so distracted in the arena,” I whisper against his neck. “If you ever look upon me again in public I will see to it that you don’t walk for weeks. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Domina.”

  “It was downright idiocy.” I move to the corner and take hold of the whip, gliding it through my hands. “Do you not realise the delicate line we tread here? If Felix were to find out…”

  I pause, allowing his head to sag forward further, and then I lash out — the whip striking true and firm across his lower back. His head jolts up, but he doesn’t make a sound.

  I lash harder… once, twice, and still he’s mute. But every muscle in his body is rigid. His arms tremble against their restraints. My barbarian. Capable of killing any man with his bare hands, trembling at my touch.

  “Do you wish me to rub salt into these wounds?” I ask, prodding the end of the whip against an angry red mark.

  “No, Domina,” he replies through clenched teeth.

  “Then let me hear your pain, gladiator.”

  Break them down.

  I strike again and again. His answering groan increases with every crack. He will never cry out for me, never yell. But he will groan, and wetness pools between my thighs in response.

  Dropping the whip, I m
ove to his front, trailing my hand lazily around his waist. He shudders, but his glorious member hangs flaccid. I trace the solid muscles in his abdomen, up and over his chest, pausing to circle his nipples.

  Following the touch with my mouth, I plant kisses over every bit of his bloodied and dirty chest. He’s sweaty, dusty, beaten. But never broken. No matter how I try.

  The tang of his blood on my tongue is sinful. I lap it up, chasing a solitary trickle from his chin, up his cheek and to its source above his eyebrow.

  He comes to life and I feel his unwavering erection press against me. Pushing forward, I grind into his shaft until he can’t help the soft moan that escapes. That moan has me dropping to my knees and worshipping his cock.

  I glide my tongue along the tip, circling round and down, licking all the way to his balls. Gripping the base with a firm hand, I pump softly, licking and sucking at only the head. His hips struggle to push forward, to drive himself further into me, but he barely has the balance.

  I draw back. Make him wait. Make him suffer. Break him down.

  When he stops pushing forward I return my mouth to his tip and continue to tease. I take my time, knowing that Vitus could return at any moment, the danger edging me on. One hand moves round to his ass and his balls tighten. He knows what’s coming. Or at least, he thinks he does, but there’s no way this would be enough punishment for the threat he posed to us in that arena.

  I haven’t even started.

  I stop, just before he reaches climax, and then I start again.

  Repeat. Over and over until his growls can probably be heard the other side of Rome.